Cindy2013

Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....Not hungry, but I want to eat....
 
I'll have a strong cup of decaf and play a video game instead.

Day 6 of my pre-op diet has been difficult. With weird noises coming from--well, everywhere, sugar lows, weakness, headaches, and even envy as I watch my family munch down on mint chocolate cookies and milk, it has not been a good day. I'm almost watching the clock until I can say 6 down, 8 to go. It has always been difficult for me to diet. My stomach rumbles telling me that it wants food, any food, all food, and quick. I've always been able to lose 20-30 pounds as I diet, but eventually I would quit and then gain back everything plus some. I will not repeat that cycle this time, because I am not going to stop until I make my goal, and then my new way of eating will be habit and I won't go back. I am more committed to this plan than I've ever been to any of the other myriad of diets I've done.
 
So while doing all the reminiscing of diets through the years, I am reminded of one in particular. One of my doctors graphically explained weight loss in the following way:
 
He said it comes down to the basic fact of less calories in than you burn, and that he has never seen a picture of a prisoner of war who wasn't skin and bones. He showed me a couple of pictures even, and gave me a chapter of text to read where some POWs were starving to death, yet they still had to drag themselves to the local coal mine for 12 hour shifts with nothing but a handful of rice for the entire day. Then they drug themselves, step by step, sometimes crawling, sometimes pulling or pushing one another, back to the prison camps where they were lucky to get a small amount of water and another handful of rice. If they searched for a morsel of something else, or complained that it wasn't enough, they were tortured even more. Often these POWs prayed that they would pass during the night, knowing that their frail bodies just could not continue on. Others prayed for help to sustain them just one more day.
 
As we are struggling through with our limited shakes or various different diets, I am reminded of those POWs and how they survived on a handful of rice for days, months, even years, all the while working hard labor in their camps. Tonight when I am hearing my stomach rumble, I'm trying to be thankful for what I have. With that in mind, 700 calories doesn't seem so small when compared to the lives of our brave prisoners of war in history.

Day 6 of my pre-op diet has been difficult. With weird noises coming from--well, everywhere, sugar lows, weakness, headaches, and even envy as I watch my family munch down on mint chocolate cookies and milk, it has not been a good day. I'm almost watching the clock until I can say 6 down, 8 to go. It has always been difficult for me to diet. My stomach rumbles telling me that it wants food, any food, all food, and quick. I've always been able to lose 20-30 pounds as I diet, but eventually I would quit and then gain back everything plus some. I will not repeat that cycle this time, because I am not going to stop until I make my goal, and then my new way of eating will be habit and I won't go back. I am more committed to this plan than I've ever been to any of the other myriad of diets I've done.
 
So while doing all the reminiscing of diets through the years, I am reminded of one in particular. One of my doctors graphically explained weight loss in the following way:
 
He said it comes down to the basic fact of less calories in than you burn, and that he has never seen a picture of a prisoner of war who wasn't skin and bones. He showed me a couple of pictures even, and gave me a chapter of text to read where some POWs were starving to death, yet they still had to drag themselves to the local coal mine for 12 hour shifts with nothing but a handful of rice for the entire day. Then they drug themselves, step by step, sometimes crawling, sometimes pulling or pushing one another, back to the prison camps where they were lucky to get a small amount of water and another handful of rice. If they searched for a morsel of something else, or complained that it wasn't enough, they were tortured even more. Often these POWs prayed that they would pass during the night, knowing that their frail bodies just could not continue on. Others prayed for help to sustain them just one more day.
 
As we are struggling through with our limited shakes or various different diets, I am reminded of those POWs and how they survived on a handful of rice for days, months, even years, all the while working hard labor in their camps. Tonight when I am hearing my stomach rumble, I'm trying to be thankful for what I have. With that in mind, 700 calories doesn't seem so small when compared to the lives of our brave prisoners of war in history.

Day 6 of my pre-op diet has been difficult. With weird noises coming from--well, everywhere, sugar lows, weakness, headaches, and even envy as I watch my family munch down on mint chocolate cookies and milk, it has not been a good day. I'm almost watching the clock until I can say 6 down, 8 to go. It has always been difficult for me to diet. My stomach rumbles telling me that it wants food, any food, all food, and quick. I've always been able to lose 20-30 pounds as I diet, but eventually I would quit and then gain back everything plus some. I will not repeat that cycle this time, because I am not going to stop until I make my goal, and then my new way of eating will be habit and I won't go back. I am more committed to this plan than I've ever been to any of the other myriad of diets I've done.
 
So while doing all the reminiscing of diets through the years, I am reminded of one in particular. One of my doctors graphically explained weight loss in the following way:
 
He said it comes down to the basic fact of less calories in than you burn, and that he has never seen a picture of a prisoner of war who wasn't skin and bones. He showed me a couple of pictures even, and gave me a chapter of text to read where some POWs were starving to death, yet they still had to drag themselves to the local coal mine for 12 hour shifts with nothing but a handful of rice for the entire day. Then they drug themselves, step by step, sometimes crawling, sometimes pulling or pushing one another, back to the prison camps where they were lucky to get a small amount of water and another handful of rice. If they searched for a morsel of something else, or complained that it wasn't enough, they were tortured even more. Often these POWs prayed that they would pass during the night, knowing that their frail bodies just could not continue on. Others prayed for help to sustain them just one more day.
 
As we are struggling through with our limited shakes or various different diets, I am reminded of those POWs and how they survived on a handful of rice for days, months, even years, all the while working hard labor in their camps. Tonight when I am hearing my stomach rumble, I'm trying to be thankful for what I have. With that in mind, 700 calories doesn't seem so small when compared to the lives of our brave prisoners of war in history.

I arrived at the hospital at around 6:30 Am. I was pretty nervous but the staff just shuffles you along as it is all very routine for them.
 
 
the surgery itself only lasts about 35 minutes, but I was under for around an hour. - As soon as I woke up they had me get up and walk, I probably did 20 laps around the hospital. I'd read so many horror stories of trapped gas that there is no way I wanted that to happen. - I'm not sure if it was luck, or the walking but thank goodness I did not have to bad of pain from the gas. - (although I did look like I was 6 month pregnant... my stomach was soo swollen.
 
Of course the incision points are sore and especially where the port is. I had HORRIBLE nausea when I woke up, I was terrified I was going to throw up. My pain was about a 3-4. but I could hear the guy next to me in recovery who had also had a band put in said his pain was a 10... so the pain no doubt varies dramatically. The doctor gave me script for some liquid pain killer but it makes me so sick to my stomach I think I'm going to tough it out.. I'd rather feel uncomfortable than throw up and rip my stitches.
 
One odd thing, I keep getting the hiccups. I've read on here that is a sign that you are "full" but I haven't eaten anything so, it is probably my body just trying to adjust.
 
I came home... walked a bit, and then took a nice long nap....
 
All in all, I really can't complain!

The rearview mirror is my best friend. I'm always consulting it, flicking between the road ahead and what has just passed. For me, I'm obsessed with understanding and learning. I never take "I don't know" as an answer. There ARE no mysteries, there is always a reason. Maybe we don't understand it at the time, but that's what rearview mirrors are for; they are the teacher's answer key. And the more I know, the better I get.
 
So here I am one week from getting my band replaced and am glancing at the rearview of my band failures and successes. I feel very different than the first time I was banded, and it's made even clearer by the new people I am befriending here on LBT. All the questions and the anxiety and the excitement, it's like looking at a photograph. It makes me smile and I'm probably more excited for their journey than they are, knowing what's coming.
 
I want to be a good leader, a great example, and most of all I want to not repeat my own mistakes (for I am still a human leader). I wasn't perfect on the band like many others I see. I have a food addiction. And the first step in anything is owning up to your misses.
 
 
 
I remember the first few months with the "magic fill" - I was a kid in a candy store, eating cookies and ice cream or high fat stuff. I would MARVEL that literally, two squares of a Hershey's bar would satisfy me. I would fold up the candy bar and put it in my desk drawer. I'd open the drawer just to look at it and boggle at the fact that I didn't WANT it, and I could say no. That never, ever happened to me. I destroy food like Godzilla with a hangover. I would sneak ice cream as a 7 year old when my mom was in the shower. The taste of food was unparalleled joy, all the time. And I enjoyed my bad food for a while when I was newly banded, because I had power over food for the first time in my life.
 
I did eventually get too cocky and the band would interrupt a nice dinner I'd made or purchased, and all the food was put away because I had to PB, or just felt awful. Try having something stuck on a date....ruins the mood. I needed to go through that embarrassment and wake up call to get back in balance. Play time was over, it was time to work. Then I got in line with the band; roasting chicken thighs and carrots for dinner, portioning things out. Talking more with whomever I was with and letting food fall to the background. I never felt deprived because my food choices were just that - MY choices. It was so empowering I cannot even describe it. I literally felt like a normal person because my relationship with food was changing.
 
This time around, I'm not even interested in bad food, or the permission to have it in small quantities. I have tasted normal sized clothing, I have tasted normal relationships with food, and I absolutely hate where I am now. I'm 40 lbs less than my heaviest, but I feel worse than I ever have. For 6 months now I've been heavy (half the time with a baby...the last 2 months of pregnancy were awful!) or healing from a c section, and lugging around more fat with sleep deprivation. I used to feel GREAT! I want to feel GREAT again.
 
The band makes me feel GREAT because I feel in control. I am out of control now. And rereading my past entries, I fought and fought for stability with a constantly failing band and a less than ideal mindset.
 
I am blessed and lucky to have a second chance. I'm not squandering it. Open eyes, looking ahead and behind, changing the bad and repeating the good. It's not all daisies on the journey, but yeah, when you get there, it's a freakin' field of flowers